"That's right! Leggo o' me an' lemme bus' my bean, damn you!" snarled Howard. And to the audience he sang, "Oh, ain't it great to have a little girlie you can trust for—life!"
They were still muttering angrily as they came off. The handclapping had been faint.
"Aw, for God's sake, stop your jawin'!" half screamed Florette. "It ain't no more my fault than it is yours. If they don' like us they don' like us, tha's all."
She ran up the stairs, sobbing. Howard followed her. They shared a dressing room now. It was small, and Freddy was in the way, although he tried to squeeze himself into the corner by the dingy stationary washstand. Howard shoved Freddy. Florette protested. The quarrelling broke out afresh. Howard tipped over a bottle of liquid white. Florette screamed at him, and he raised his fist. Freddy darted out of his corner.
"Say, ya big stiff, cut out that rough stuff, see?" cried little
Freddy in the only language of chivalry that he knew.
Howard whirled upon him furiously, calling him a name that Freddy did not understand, but Florette flung herself between them and caught the blow.
* * * * *
"He certainly looks as if he had fallen asleep," Miss Nellie Blair repeated. "Better run out and get him, Mary. He might tumble off the wall."
As Mary went out a maid came in.
"A gen'l'mun to see you, Miss Blair," she announced.